


For the Birds or (I Should be Very Happy in Your Company)

by karrenia_rune



Category: Original Work
Genre: Africa, Angst and Humor, Exploration, Implied Relationships, M/M, Slice of Life, Victorian Attitudes, Victorian Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune





	For the Birds or (I Should be Very Happy in Your Company)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fennui (paperweight)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperweight/gifts).



"For the Birds" or (I Should be Very Happy in Your Company"

He'd never seen his friend and comrade-in-arms with his shoes off, but given the fact that they stood on the tranquil shore of a rocky coast with the energetic waves of the restless ocean tattooing a steady beat just beyond where they stood, it seemed the thing to do. 

Hal Miller removed one boot at a time, unlacing the stays with a studied calm that he normally only devoted to his field notes or analyzing samples under that fascinating new invention, the microscope. After this task was completed to Hal's satisfaction he then up-ended his footwear and dumped out the sand.

Matthew had already done this and had just come back from gathering fire-wood. They had first met at one of the many gatherings hosted by the London Royal Science Club.  
Matthew, to his chagrin, had only attended the meeting out of the wishes of his father, Sheldrake Sr. had been a cabinet-maker with a thirst for adventure and even from a young age had been fascinated by the adventures of the likes of Robinson Crusoe; or the actual exploits of the likes of Sir Francis Drake.

Matthew Sheldrake had never dreamed that that gentleman would have crossed paths with his own; he had often likened it to two planets whose enigmatic orbits seldom if ever crossed one another's. It was one day when their shop received an order for two dozen oak cabinets, three dozen chests, custom-made, of course. All of which was to be delivered personally to Drake's flagship in three weeks time.

 

Suffice it say that young Matthew and the journeymen in training had their work cut out for them. The experience had changed his life. To this day, he wondered if the fellow that had slipped the scrap of paper into his coat pocket as he left the gangplank onto the weathered boards of the docks was, and what his ulterior purpose was; if any.

He'd discussed it with Hal, who confessed that he had also received a similar missive, but even at this late removed had no idea who the man had been either; only that the man had later shown up at his manse with the whispered intimation that it would be mutually beneficial if these two could be brought into each's other orbits.

Matthew figured it was usually to spend any more time wool-gathering, because evening was coming on and the island's native species of insects, assorted crickets were beginning to tune up and they would need a fire for cooking the evening meal and keeping insects and other more dangerous critters at bay.

He was joined by Hal and together they piled the gathered sticks into a tripod and Hal squatted down on his haunches to rub his flint and steel together. 

"Matthew, my boy!" he exclaimed in his booming baritone. "This has been a grand day. However, I must confess I am slightly fearful that other than expanding our collective understanding of the natural world finding the gentlemen in question might very turn out to become a wildfowl chase."

"Not that I disagree, Hal," Matthew began, pulling out a case and laying it aside as he began to toast bread liberally spread with cheese over the now merrily burning flames, while Hal sat down on the ground and began to prepare the rabbits which were hanging on an improvised spit, and were to be cleaned and rubbed with a brace of spices in order to make a hearty stew.

"Our nominal duty to the Crown is to find this Livingston fellow if he simply has not been swallowed up by the Bush. Not for nothing is this place called the Dark Continent."

Matthew rubbed his arms slapping at the pinkish splotches dotting his lily-white skin; he, by far, had been the favorite targets of the local insect population. "I agree, and given the chose I would much rather being on the seas or exploring the Indian Ocean or the Carribean.

"Since we're on the topic of our preferences, I would rather complete my omnibus of orthology. In fact, it was our last trip to the island of Madagascar, which leads me to believe that there is a species of mammal there that can be found no place else on God's green and fecund Earth."

Matthew smiled, remembering that trip. Ostensibly, his friend and partner's passion for scientific exploration in remote locales had led to a semi-lucrative and well-respected research in birds; however, that did not necessarily preclude stopping to admire study and catalog other animals as well. 

He had been captivated by the antics of the barrel-shaped four-footed grey-brown, and black mammals with the large and rapt stare and long striped tails who had leaped and clung with such tenacity to trees of all size and description. 

They had probably never seen such things as a man either and shown little to no fear of the intruders into their green domain. They had also been extremely curious, sidling up to the two men and coming in as close as their instincts would allow sneaking into their camp.

"Have you decided what to call them?" Matthew asked.

"I suppose so," murrmurred Hal, drumming his fingers on the knees of his khaki slacks, "But it seems so last century to employ the tired nomenclature of Latin."

"If not Latin, then what?" Matthew smiled, thinking that if old-school members of the Club knew that Hal had a tendency to stray from the tried and true and centuries-old custom of employ Latin; why they'd be tearing out their hair, or wigs. 

Hal also hated to dress up or wear his long black hair underneath a powdered and itchy wig. 

"Stew?" Hal abruptly asked.

"Sure," Matthew replied accepting the claw bowl his friend and partner handed to him, blowing on a bit until it was no longer so hot that it would burn his tongue. 

He had known Hal long enough to appreciate the man's cooking, but he also knew that Hal was the kind of man whose mind is so busy with thoughts of science and practical applications of those discoveries that he often forget to think and act like normal men.

"How's the stew and is the toast ready?"

"It would seem to be." Matthew handed it over and they both settled down to eat supper.

After supper Hal went to a nearby stream to wash the bowls and cooking implements and then over to a nearby bush to answer the call of nature, emerging from behind the bush with his fly open, which he quickly turned into a gesture of pulling up his belt.

Matthew had gone into the tent they had set up earlier and wondered if Hal would turn in early or sit up by the fire staring into the dreaming coals. When he emerged his friend had indeed sat down in a cross-legged pose.  
He began to whistle a tuneless song, that at times hovered just on the edge of dissonance without ever crossing over, then went silent once more. Knowing that this was often part of the man's process Matthew sat beside in comfortable silence. 

Hal continued to hum in this way for some time, even as the night advanced and the stars began to emerge as if they had been hidden by a velvet black blanket. 

"Matthew," the older man began. "do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if we'd never met? Or about the identity of that mysterious stranger?"

"Truth," Matthew replied. "Off and on." Do do you...ever..." suddenly finding that his palms were clammy and his tongue had grown two sizes big for his mouth. The world that opened up to him as first Hal's research and lab assistant, and then as his companion on this adventures to the far-flung regions of the Her Majesty's vast empire; were beyond price.

"Matthew, do not you worry, our adventures together have become some of the best in my life," Hal replied, but I do have to wonder if it was by intent or fate."

"If it was by intent, then by whom and for what purpose?"

"True, true," Hal muttered "I must confess that my restless nature could not contain my desire to know the answers to those very questions. And so I employed methods to discover them."  
"What did you find out?" asked Matthew eagerly; this was a missing component of his own story.

"Truth be told, I had a devil of a time, finding the author of those missives. In fact, the good men of Scotland Yard had the gall to laugh in my face and determined that I was chasing a phantom or even a figment of my imagination."

"It was hardly a phantom," Matthew opined. The man was very well-built, wearing a trench-coat and hat with a wide brim which covered much of his face."

"Indeed, in my encounter with him, he was dressed much the same, but I remember he carried some sort of time-keeping device."  
"A pocket-watch?

"Could have been, could have been," Hal opined, "it was difficult to get a clear view of the ground-hugging morning fog. You know how London can be in early spring. I'm getting old, my friend, but fog or no fog, these eyes have always held me in good stead." Hal smiled and rubbed his grey-green eyes with the backs of his hands. 

"If not a watch, then what?"

"I've uttered many an outlandish thing in my time, Matthew;' some meant to shock and dismay, others just because the circumstance and situation and my temperament demanded it; so, I say that this time I swear the gentlemen in the wide-brimmed hat and trench coat carried a...." he paused dramatically. 

"Well," Matthew demanded, a little impaitently.

"An hourglass," Hal replied with a sigh.

"Like we saw in that book of collected tarot signs written by the German fellow who came to London two months ago," Matthew said. "I do wonder what the deal was with the hourglass, though."

"The very same," Hal assented. "I'm not entirely certain, perhaps it was a fetish, perhaps it was meant to be symbolic, or a challenge, or an indication that his tacit support/suggestion had a time limit?" 

"If that's the case, what possible interest could he have in us?"

 

"None whatsoever," Hal griped. "That's what I could never figure out, but I must say, it certainly turned out splendidly!" and began to laugh uproariously.

"Did you ever catch him; get him to talk to you?" 

"No, but by then, I admit too many other demands claimed my time and attention and by then, well, the wisdom of bringing the two of us together seemed to have been borne out; would you not agree?"

"Wholeheartedly!"

 

"Then, it is the time we retired. Good night, Matthew."

"Good night, Hal."


End file.
